Grey A Johnlock Fanfiction
by official-not-his-date
Summary: Grey, grey, grey, grey , grey. After the death of his best friend, all John feels is grey. Until he finds out Sherlock isn't dead. Life's pretty hard for Sherlock and John, but what happens when they start to show their true feelings? Disclaimer; There isn't currently, but I have plans to make this a pretty smutty story, so if you're in it for the smut, hang in there.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Grey. If people could feel colours all John would feel is grey. Grey is a safe colour. A colour that won't change. A colour that would make him feel nothing, empty on the inside. A colour that wouldn't leave him when he started to realize that grey could mean more to him then grey ever imagined. In short, grey was the opposite of Sherlock.

June 23rd, about 8 months after Sherlock's... John couldn't bear to finish the thought. He meekly laughed to himself, Sherlock still manages to invade John's life, even after death. He was leaving from a date that ended poorly when John accidentally called the girl (What was her actual name, Lena? Lana?) Lindsey, who was the girl from last week's date at the same cafe. Lindsey was his longest girlfriend post-Sherlock, with a record of a nine and a half days. John seemed uninterested in dating, and other activities. (His ex-therapist diagnosed him with depression, surprise there. He soon fired her not long after, for the fact that it was the same therapist he saw before Sherlock, the one that inspired his blog, and even her brought back painful, mind crippling memories of Sherlock.)

A flash of a tall man wearing a navy scarf, similar to the seemingly missing one at John's flat, quickly turning a corner was all John needed to take off in a sprint, chasing after the man. He elbowed his way the busy streets of noon-rush London, in desperate pursuit of the almost (Maybe? Hopefully?) Sherlock looking man. He turned the same corner that the Sherlock doppelganger went down, only to find himself at a dead-end alley, receiving various worried looks and hesitant murmurs.


	2. Chapter 2

Forlorn, John shuffled out of the alley way onto the busy road. Luckily, his flat was but a half block away, so John didn't have to hail a cab or feel the stares of a dozen or so worried city folk.

As John scurried the short walk home, he couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if it _was _Sherlock. Would Sherlock move back in with him? Would he share the same feelings the John had, still has? Would he- John shook the thought out of his mind. No need to ponder things that would never, ever, ever happen. It's probably from the lack of sleep that I saw the familiar figure. It probably wasn't even there, just a figment of my imagination., John thought to himself. Early to bed tonight. But no matter how early John went to bed, he knew he still wouldn't have a good sleep. Every night, as if clockwork, John woke up startled, sometimes even screaming, from the vivid nightmares of his best friend lying dead, with his glassy eyes staring straight into the nothingness that only he could see. The same nothingness that John felt.

He closed the flat door behind him, with an exasperated sigh. Mrs. Hudson gave him a pitying look, and turned to continue making her tea. John and Mrs. Hudson rarely talked any more, just exchanged knowing looks and sighs, the weight of loosing Sherlock still heavy on their hearts. John limped up the stairs, his limp came back about the same time Sherlock left.

He put his cane down and walked into the living area, only to be greeted by his supposedly dead flat mate.

"Hope you don't mind, I let myself in. Still had the key in my pocket you see. If you have time I can explai-"

John didn't let Sherlock finish his statement before doing what any man would do, confronted with an I-thought-he-was-dead-but-now-he's-in-the-living-room-ohshit friend. He clocked him.


	3. Chapter 3

"You punched me," explained a very dazed Sherlock, looking up through his long eyelashes

"Well yes, I suppose I did." answered an equally dazed John

"You punched me, and now I am concussed. My head, it, it hurts. So does my hip. Well actually my hip itself doesn't hurt, the nerves are sending signals to my brain instructing it to feel pain at this particular part of my hip, so really, it is my brain that is hurting. John, did you know my brain hurts now?"

"Erm, ya. Sorry bout that. You did hit your head pretty hard on the way down. Let me check for any signs of injuries really quickly..."

John gently probed Sherlock's head with his calloused fingers, searching for signs of injury, slowly (almost lovingly) pushing back Sherlock's inky curls as he did so. Whether by his imagination of Sherlock's new found "concussed" state, John could swear he felt Sherlock gently pushing his head into John's hands, as if a cat.

"Give it to me straight, doc. I'm concussed aren't I?"

John chuckled, "Certainly not concussed, just a wimp. Now get of the floor you little bastard. Where in the name of bloody hell have you been anyways?"

"Not concussed then? Shame, really could have used the remorse on your part. No matter then. Shall I make tea?'

John just shook his head. Disappears for eight months, comes back and offers to make tea. That's definitely Sherlock. Except for the whole "Doing something for the sake of John" part. He definitely had to check up on that, make sure no brain damage actually had been caused by his punch. Though he would never tell Sherlock if it did cause it, for fear of blackmail.

"Just sugar, Sherlock."

"You think I don't know that?" he answered, the kettle already boiling


	4. Chapter 4

"So," sherlock started

"Skip the science-y stuff, I don't necessarily need to know how you did it, I need to know why you did it."

Sherlock seemed uncomfortable, feelings and sentiment was certainty not his forte.

"It was actually a quite interesting process scientifically, all I had to do was calculate so basic physics and have free reign of the morgue and the bodies in said morgue, but I'll continue on that topic later. But I had to jump John, I had to have you and everybody else believe I was dead. Because if you knew I wasn't dead, Moriarty and his web certainty knew I wasn't dead. He and his accomplices quite a bit smarter then you.

John ignored the insult and continued, "But why so long? Why did you wait almost eight long, lonely months to tell me you didn't die? Why put me through hell and back just to show up in my living room, or our living room whatever, later? What would possibly posses a man to do that?"

Sherlock sighed, " I had to John, don't you see that? I jumped because you and Mrs. Hudson and everyone else I cared for or had a shred of respect for was in danger! Do you think I was really selfish enough to come back and see you, as much I wanted to, without making positive that Moriarty and his web of spies and accomplices are totally gone? Besides, you knew I was alive in some way. My scarf and violin are gone! What did you think happened to them, they moved out and decided to start a family of missing objects in Essex? Really John, I've been leaving hints for you everywhere. Lately, against my better judgement, I've been coming to check up on you. You saw me today, luckily I hopped into an old bookshop before you had a chance to catch me. Wouldn't want to make a scene out in the streets of London."

"You, you came back? Just for me!?" John sputtered

"Of course," Sherlock answered. "I care about you John."

Both men at this point had long sense abandoned the thought of tea, and were standing up mere inches away from each other. In a flash of instantaneous bravery, maybe even foolishness, John kissed Sherlock.

"What, oh I'm so, just so, ok I'm sorry it's just that I thought that maybe, oh BLOODY HELL JUST FORGET IT" John stumbled over his words

"Forget it? Why? I certainly enjoyed it." Sherlock grinned


	5. Chapter 5

"What? I mean, well, what? I thought you'd be less.. Well, okay with the whole 'kissing' thing."

"I do have a heart, John. Also desires for that matter." Sherlock said, raising an eyebrow.

John ignored the last part and continued, "So I mean, where does that leave us? I just kissed a man that supposedly committed suicide. Are you going to come out to the public? Are you going to have your name cleared? What happened to Moriarty? Don't give me any of that 'He was made up' bullshit either. I know you Sherlock, better then you think I do."

"Here's the thing though, I'm not supposed to be here, at the flat. At least, not quite yet. Brother dearest didn't want me here for at least another two weeks or so, so until then and he starts getting things sorted out, I'll definitely have to lay low for a bit. After that I have a plan, but it's best not to worry you with it now. Besides, I'm sure you'll love dealing with a home-stuck me for the next two weeks. Mind you, I've been awfully bored, so you must do something to entertain me in the least, seeing how I risked my hide coming to see you and you kissed me and all." Sherlock smirked.

"From the look on your face, didn't seem like you seemed to mind it that much" John retorted. "But I'll see what I can do. Your 'bored' moods are quite legendary, and it might cause a bit of attention having gunshots ringing out from a flat that supposedly hosts only one person in the wee hours of the morning. Though your brain, smart as it is, seems to think that this behavior is completely acceptable in today's society."

"You're nervous. You're rambling, you're eyes only hold me gaze for three seconds maximum, and you keep shifting from foot to foot even though we haven't been standing for long." Sherlock stated.

"Looks like you didn't suffer any brain damage after all." John smiled, relieved that his friend, (boyfriend? that was yet to be determined) still was the same obnoxious twit as ever.

The next few days went on quietly, with little disturbance. Both men where ecstatic to be in each others company again, but the sexual tension could be cut with one of Ms. Hudson's ornate cheese knives. Nothing else was said about the kiss, but stolen glances between the two held a conversation all their own.


	6. Chapter 6

Three days. That's how long it's been since the kiss. The kiss that didn't end the friendship between John and Sherlock, but strengthened it. The thought of kissing Sherlock invaded John's brain almost every second of the day. Almost. The few moments that he didn't think of kissing him were the moments that Sherlock was looking at him. In those moments, he couldn't fathom a single thought. John knew three things; One, he kissed Sherlock. Two, they both seemed to enjoy it. Three, he definitely wanted to do it again. And soon.

It was later in the evening, and both men were sitting on the couch drinking tea. John was actually the only one doing the drinking of the tea, Sherlock was more poking at it out of respect for John.

"So," Sherlock started, turning down the show John was watching "When are you going to kiss me again?"

John almost choked on his tea, spluttering out a weak "What?"

"You heard me. When are you going to kiss me again? Or should I kiss you? I'm not exactly positive on how this whole 'relationship' scenario should be played out, and seeing how this is one of the only areas in which I don't excel, I could use a spot of help."

"Well, that's just it. I'm not sure that the whole kissing thing is a good idea. I don't want us caught up in the moment, and the last thing we both need in this moment is more drama or unwanted tension between us. For the benefit of both of us, I suggest we put this behind us. Okay?"

"Oh." Sherlock said, folding his hands in an almost prayer-like fashion under his chin for a few seconds before lurching forward and kissing John passionately, cradling John's face with those long, graceful fingers as he did so.

"That's bullshit John, and we both know it. If you'd like to take things slow, that's okay. But for you to sit here and deny something that even the most mindless idiot can deduce frankly insults my intelligence, and you know how I pout when my intelligence is in question." Sherlock smiled

"You are a big pouter," John smiled back "and you're right. It was absolute, total, complete, shit." John responded, kissing Sherlock back with an equal amount of passion, tinged with just a hint of want that both men possessed

It was going to be hard, making this relationship work, but if Sherlock kept kissing him like this he would live through hell without a regret. God knows what John would do when it gets to be well, more than kissing..


	7. Chapter 7

It was a comfortable next couple of days, filled with stolen kisses and just general happiness to be around each other. Though, having Sherlock confined to the apartment was not doing either of them to much good, and an incredible case of cabin fever was sure to be present in both men soon if they didn't leave the apartment, and soon. Luckily, a call from Mycroft about noon on Sunday cut Sherlock's confinement short.

"I know that Sherlock's in the flat with you, so don't deny it. I would have immensely preferred that Sherlock would've stayed out of the general area, but we both know that he has the self control of a three year old boy. Though, I'm impressed that you've managed to keep him quite and out of the public eye for this long. What have you love bird's been up to?"

"What? What are you implying? Absolutely nothing has been happening between us, and-" John panicked into the other end of the phone line

"It was a joke. But judging by your panicked state, is there anything you two'd like to announce?" Mycroft said, and John could have sworn that he could feel Mycroft's smirk through the phone.

John just sighed in response.

Mycroft gave a sullen chuckle, saying "Well this should certainly add a interesting twist to this procedure. Fair enough, I did see it coming from the beginning. Leave it up to my darling little brother to show his feeling s at the worst possible point, if I didn't know you better I would have said it was just a ruse to annoy me and make my life increasingly difficult, but no matter. I have more interesting things to do then gossip about my brothers little love life. Thing's, aside from you two who are no help, are going increasingly well and Sherlock might be able to make his appearance ahead of schedule. I'll get back to you but I believe Tuesday is the big day. Do try and stay out of trouble till then? I'm sure you could manage three days in the flat alone, unless my expectations of you two being absolutely troublesome are correct. I've got to get going."

John proceeded to ask Mycroft a couple of questions, but was only greeted by a dial tone.

"Sherlock, did you hear that? Sherlock? Where have you gone? ... WHY IN GOD'S NAME ARE YOU IN THE FREEZER?!"


	8. Chapter 8

"It was so dreadfully boring watching you two play a game that Mycroft was obviously winning, way to be discreet by the way, so I decided to test my theory on how long a person could willingly stand freezing temperatures, that is until you interrupted it." Sherlock stated

"But why were you even, never mind that's irrelevant. We do have to talk about, you know, us, though. Care to take a step out of the freezer for a moment?"

"No. I'm perfectly fine right were I am." Sherlock persisted, crossing his arms

"Stubborn as always, I'm afraid." John chuckled "I'd like to know where you stand on us being in a relationship. It's okay if you don't feel comfortable or if you don't care for it. But I want to know if you'd be able to commit more than a few kisses to this relationship. Right now I either need somebody to commit to a real relationship or nobody at all, and if you just aren't ready then it's best that we end this now." John finished

"Of course I'm ready to commit, John. Do you think I would have entered a relationship like this without the preconceived notion of it actually working out? I don't waste my time on these things unless I believe they would work out, and this relationship I find is something that I firmly believe in. Immensely so." Sherlock said this all very whole-heatedly, but while delivering this brief but meaningful speech, gave John a rather funny look

"Alright, but what's with the weird look?"

"It's just that I thought that you knew that I've wanted this for a long time. Very, very badly. It's odd that you would ask me if I'm willing to commit to something that I desire so badly."

Without answering, John heatedly kissed Sherlock. Sherlock responded with just as much gusto, not breaking the connection between the two men for an endless moment, before catching their breath and swooping back in for another kiss. Passion blooms from both men and their hands are everywhere, cradling the others face, looped in Sherlock's hair, tracing John's spine, fingers tangled together. Fire is burning, in the pit of their stomach and in their hearts, showing through the rosy blush on their cheeks. Both of their minds though, were crystal clear, unable to fathom anything but the thought perfectness of the moment and the heat of the kisses.

A few minutes later, Sherlock and John simultaneously broke apart.

"Well," John said panting "that was incredibly hot."

Sherlock chuckled in response. "I'm afraid that I won't be able to stop doing that now. It was probably one of the greatest moment of my life and one of your worst decisions."

"Oh really? How so?" John hummed

"I'm going to have to do that all the time now, and having lots of fun doing it, and finding places to do just that." Sherlock said, raising an eyebrow. "Closets, restaurant bathrooms, hidden places at crime scenes, the list can go on."

"Really then? I'm sure I'll be able to find something to tease you with also, and from the looks of it, it won't be to long till I'll be able to find out."

"People will be talking, you know. Once they find out about us." Sherlock stated, more of an observation of things to come then a warning

"Then let's give them something to talk about." John smirked back, pecking Sherlock on the lips before heading back to the living room. "By the way, I've you ever decide to scare the living shit out of me by hiding in the freezer again, I promise you that you will _definitely_ need something to bargain with if you ever want me to kiss you like that again."

"That's easy, I'll be the one doing the kissing."


	9. Chapter 9

*One week afterwords*

"I still don't understand how she can die in her apartment at 2:15 and bored the train to downtown at 3:00 later that evening." Lestrade said, bewildered

"Good God, do you idiots even do your research? Why don't I just spoon feed you every blatantly obvious-" Sherlock was about to continue hsi rant before John cut him off.

"Stop showing off and just tell them what happened."

Sherlock smirked, "I bet even John has a faint idea of what's going on. I swear, you're been around Anderson so long that your brain has started going south too. Tell him how she did it John. Or rather, how _she _didn't do it."

"Well, I mean, yes I can faintly delineate whats- wait a second, what do you mean _even John?! _God forbid you can give a compliment without it hiding behind a wall of sarcasm. Anyways, I'd assume that if she really did die in her apartment at 2:15, that it wasn't her getting on the train later that day, but rather someone that looked like her. A twin, or a sister maybe?"

"Close, but not exactly right. As the records prove she's an only child, which is clearly what confused Lestrade. She's a cousin, and a bad one at that. You see, this wasn't murder, but a carefully planned homicide, made to look like suicide. Judging by the bruises on her wrist, there was signs of struggle. They probably injected her with something to keep her sedated, and suffocated her, then strung her up to make you think it was a suicide."

"SHERLOCK! _Do not refer to a dead women as 'strung up'. _Jesus, do you have an once of empathy in your body?" John _  
_

Sherlock just sighed in response and continued. "The autopsy was right, she did die from lack of oxygen, but she died long before she was hung. My guess is that the cousin is involved in some sort of illegal activity, and Shelby here found out about it. Shelby's cousin hired a hit man, and used their likeliness to her ability, and disguised herself as Shelby and fled the country, and while you guys are still trying to figure out how she managed to be on the three o'clock train while she was dead, she made her daring escape."

"You can deduce all of that in, what, eight minutes? Though I hate to blow up your ego even larger, that was pretty impressive."

"That's not the only thing you're blowing.." Sally Donovan muttered on her way past

Lestrade tried and failed to contain a snort.

"Oh, shut up already. Don't you have something else to muck up about now?" Sherlock said with, what was that, a hint of a blush creeping up on his cheeks?

"Well thanks for your help again Sherlock, and John too," Lestrade giving a nod in John's general direction. "I'll call if anything comes up. Bye."

"Bye!" John called back, scurrying after an already gone Sherlock.

"In the mood for a spot of supper? It's quarter to 8 already." Sherlock inquired a little while later, nodding towards a little Chinese place down the street.

"If you're in the mood, sure."

After they were seated in a spot near the back of the dimly lit restaurant, they began to browse their brittle, slightly yellowing menus.

"Wait a moment, this place is familiar. Didn't we come here the first day we met? Haha, is this an apology sentimental date for the 'even John' snub before?" John inquired, the ghost of a smile dancing across his lips.

"Preposterous." Sherlock said, not even trying to hide the fact that John discovered almost instantly his real reason for being here.

"So, about what Sargent Donovan said earlier. That was pretty close. Do you think they'll find out about us anytime soon? I mean, of course I don't want to _hide _it from them, but It's already hard enough for them trying to comprehend that you're actually not dead, and to add our relationship on top of that might overwhelm them."

"Oh, I don't think that we have to worry about them finding out anytime soon." Sherlock mused

"Why would that be?"

"I have a suspicion that they already know, and for quite a bit now."

"How could they have possibly figured that out?"

"They're not totally idiots you know, at least not all of them. The way you look at me might give it away too. You and those dopey blue eyes are going to be the death of me."

They ordered and eat their surprisingly good Chinese food, making happy small talk while doing so. After finishing and paying for their food, they made their way back to their flat, holding hands as they did so.

"This day certainly could have gone worse." John thought to himself. "A nice cuppa tea and telly with Sherlock and it might even be a great one."

John smiled the whole way home.


End file.
